


Backstage Pass

by Someone_aka_Me



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acrobatics, Alternate Universe - Circus, Archery, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 14:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15910116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someone_aka_Me/pseuds/Someone_aka_Me
Summary: The circus life isn't for everyone, but it's Lavender's home. It does make it a little hard to find love, though. Until a certain archer walks in and demands a place in the circus and in her life.





	Backstage Pass

Lavender sticks the dismount from the rings, her feet smacking the mat as she lands. She breathes in deeply, throwing her hands up for the showmanship of it.

She knows by the faint trembling in her arms that she needs to stop practicing and let her muscles rest now, or she'll be feeling the after-effects, so she dismounts the mat and starts peeling the tape off of her hands.

She's exhausted, but it's the kind of exhaustion that's purely physical, leaving her mind bright and sharp, still running routines, still making sure everything is perfect.

They're packing up after tonight's show, on to the next town, on to the next fairground. It's what life in the circus is.

And she loves it. She doesn't have anything chaining her down. Sure, maybe it gets lonely, sometimes, but overall she wouldn't trade it for the world.

She does her cool down stretches in the corner of the training tent, making sure all of her muscles are lax before she dares to leave. Heading in the direction of Madam Trelawney's tent, she grabs a bottle of water and drains it in one go.

She should probably be making sure she's packed, since they're leaving right after tonight's show, but she really doesn't have that much to do besides pull her tent down, and she's done that enough times that she could do it in her sleep.

She winds her way through the patrons, narrowly avoiding getting clubbed by an effusively gesturing young woman, and she slips into Madam Trelawney's tent.

There are no patrons, here. It's an interesting place, crystals of all colours dripping from the roof, the smell of incense strong in the air.

"I knew you were coming," Madam Trelawney says, as she always does.

Lavender smiles. "Of course you did, Madam," she replies, taking an easy seat at the small table.

Madam Trelawney moves out from behind the orange and pink crystal curtains, the tinkling of the beads comforting to Lavender's ears.

She smiles, somehow both kind and enigmatic, and tosses her scarf over her shoulder with a flourish.

"Would you like a reading, dear?"

"I'd love one," Lavender tells her.

Madam Trelawney's hands trail over the trinkets on her sideboard, contemplating.

"Scrying crystal today, I think," she says, plucking the crystal ball off the surface and carrying it over to the table. She runs a ringed hand over the smooth curve of the ball.

"Do you see anything, darling?"

Lavender peers deeply into the clouded crystal. Some days it seems to clear for her, giving her a vision into the beyond. But not today.

"Sorry, Madam," she says.

Trelawney sighs, and then gazes deep into the crystal ball. She breathes in deep and steady.

And then she smiles.

"Ahhhh," she says, looking up at Lavender. "I had hoped this day would come for you."

"What is it, Madam?"

Madam Trelawney smiles, less enigma, more kindness. "It is time," she says, "for you to fall in love."

…

Madam Trelawney has never been wrong before, and yet Lavender finds herself doubting.

Love has never been in the cards for her before. She's had fun with a fair number of customer — a lot of circus patrons want to know  _exactly_  how flexible the acrobats are, and Lavender is all too happy to show them that the answer is  _very_.

The nice thing about having fun with the customers is she knows it's never permanent. She knows it never lasts. The circus will pack up and move and she'll be nothing more than a memory of a warm summer night in a tent lit with candles.

That's how she likes it.

Really, it is.

…

Except that this new town is different, because in the middle of the day, before they've even opened for the day, a stranger strides into the big top.

She's the kind of gorgeous that makes Lavender want to stop and stare — brown skin that looks warm to the touch, legs that go on for miles. She's wearing tight,  _tight_  black pants and when she turns Lavender gets distracted by the curve of her ass, which is  _flawless_ , jesus. Her legs are all lean muscle beneath it. She's wearing a dark green crop top with no sleeves that shows off a belly button ring, more of that flawless brown skin, and the strength in her arms. In her left hand, she holds a longbow of fairly simple construction. In her right, a single arrow. On her left arm, she has a leather bracer.

"Who do I have to talk to about joining?" she says. Her voice is high and clear and strong.

Their Ringleader, Zabini, laughs at her. "You can't just walk into the big top and join a circus," he says.

Lavender hops down from the beam she's been practicing on and wanders over. "What can you do?" she asks, curious. Blaise shoots her a look, but Lavender just shrugs.

The woman, instead of answering, nocks an arrow and takes a look around. "Give me a target," she says.

Lavender glances over to where her rings are still set up. They're small, maybe 10 centimetres in diameter, dangling at the end of their rope. "Can you send it through a ring?"

The woman laughs. "Give me a smaller target."

Lavender raises an eyebrow at her surety. She looks around. There's a poster on one wall of the tent — a flyer for Madam Trelawney's. "Hit the bridge of her glasses," she says, gesturing to the poster.

The woman smiles, and pulls her bow back. Lavender watches the flex of her arms as she draws the bow back further than it seems would be possible. As she lifts her shoulders to set her shot, her crop top rises as well — just enough for Lavender to see a perfect curve of breast, and the evidence that she is not wearing a bra. It's just a glimpse, and then her shoulders settle into position and her shirt drops just enough to cover it.

If Zabini doesn't hire her, Lavender might kill him.

She draws her eyes up to the woman's face to find the woman staring right back at her, a smug smirk playing at her lips. She knows exactly how long her top is. She knows exactly where Lavender was looking.

If Zabini  _does_  hire her, this woman might be the death of Lavender.

Lavender doesn't break her gaze, and eventually the woman shifts her gaze, sights her aim, and releases.

The arrow sings as it flies. It tears easily through the poster and the tent wall, sticking on the fletching so that the arrow is still embedded.

It's gone right through the bridge of Madam Trelawney's glasses.

Blaise eyes her with a new light in his eyes, appraising. "Can you do that in front of a roaring crowd?"

"Of course," she says.

"If the arrow is on fire?"

"I don't see why not."

"If  _you're_  on fire?"

The woman's face morphs into a frown. "What the fuck? No!"

Blaise laughs. "Good answer. We get a lot of crazies."

"Is that a yes?"

"Are you going to tell me why you want to run off and join the circus?" Blaise asks instead of answering.

"Probably not."

"Is anyone coming after you?"

"No," she says, with such surety that Lavender doesn't doubt her for a second.

Blaise looks her up and down.

"Yeah, all right," he says eventually. "You can bunk with Lavender."

"Hey!" Lavender protests, mostly because she's expected to.

Blaise doesn't even look at her. "You know you're next one up," he says.

And it's true, she's had a single the longest.

She's not actually mad, though. She'll share a tent with this woman any day.

"Come on, then," she says. "And while you're at it, you'd best tell me your name."

…

Her name is Parvati. She doesn't give a last name, and Lavender doesn't ask. Lavender doesn't give one either, but that's because she doesn't remember hers.

She doesn't remember much from before — a soft hum and a sharp voice and the sting of fear.

The circus has been her home for as long as she can remember. She wouldn't have it any other way.

"We'll get you a pallet," she tells Parvati. "Sorry, the tent's just set up for one."

"Oh, that's alright," Parvati says. "I don't mind sharing. I appreciate everything, really."

She finds a corner and sets down her bow as well as the tiny bag she picked up just outside of the big top. Lavender admires her dedication — she was so committed to her aesthetic that she left her bag outside.

It's something Lavender would do.

…

Lavender wishes she were smooth.

She wishes she had Parvati's confidence, to stride into a big top and demand to be given a place.

She doesn't.

But she has Madam Trelawney's words about love echoing in her head and she's never been so entranced by a first glance before.

But here's the thing — trying to date within the circus is very different from dating customers. If it goes wrong, she can't just pack up and walk away. Parvati comes with her.

Frankly, that's terrifying.

But then, Lavender defies fear for a living. Maybe she's finally ready to do it like this as well.

…

It takes her a week to ask Parvati to dinner.

She does so after a show, both of them riding the high of the audience's cheers. Parvati has slipped seamlessly into their routines, and it's already almost like she's always been there.

Lavender can't help but be glad that their events aren't at the same time, so she can stand in the shadows and watch the flex of Parvati's arms, the joy in her face.

She loves this.

Some people don't take to the circus naturally, and some do. Some people need anchors, and some people do better off living in the wind.

Parvati is clearly the latter type.

She looks like she's here to stay, and that gives Lavender the conviction to turn to her in the darkness outside the big top, to look at her face lit by the full moon, and say, "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

Lavender is blushing; she knows she is. She can barely meet Parvati's eyes.

But she  _wants_  this.

And Parvati smiles, slow and slick, and says, "I'd like that."

…

They go on a date outside the circus, to the cinema. They watch a movie and share a popcorn and when their hands touch in the popcorn bucket, they turn to each other and smile. And when the movie gets boring, they start pelting each other with popcorn kernels, trying to see who can get the most in the other's hair. Parvati wins by a landslide. Lavender doesn't know what she expected.

By the end of the movie, they're kissing in the back row of the theatre, Parvati's hands tugging on Lavender's hair, both of them gasping and breathless.

The movie ends and they barely notice, too engrossed in each other. A member of the staff has to kick them out.

Parvati takes Lavender's hand and leads her back to their tent, eyes bright and hands wandering. Just after they enter the tent, Parvati pauses and says, her smile mischievous, "Your hair looks great when you wear it like that."

Lavender glances in the mirror to find that Parvati's hands have turned it into a tangle mess. She thinks about being horrified, but in the end she just laughs, and Parvati laughs with her.

It's perfect.

...

In the end, asking Parvati on a date is one of the best decisions she's ever made.

Parvati is entrancing, gorgeous, and oh-so-aware of how to use it. She can render Lavender helpless and gasping in minutes.

And she lives in the same  _tent_. It's an endless distraction because Lavender can just roll over at any moment and kiss her, slip a hand down her pajama pants and watch her face as she comes apart —  _any time she wants to._

But it's more than that.

They can talk about anything — politics, feminism, stupid movies, and even the past.

Parvati is hard-shelled and determined, glazed by fire and stubborn as hell. It's clear that she's been broken — no one joins the circus if they haven't, all of them are fleeing something in their past — but she's only let it make her stronger.

And beneath her shell there is still an endless depth of kindness, masked in rough edges but oh-so-obvious now that Lavender knows what to look for. When Parvati says "I hate you," Lavender knows that she is loved.

It's not really what she expected when Madam Trelawney told her love was in her future. It's so much better. So much more real.


End file.
